


life begins when you accept your fate

by wrennette



Series: Trashpile: A Compendium of Unfinished Fics [19]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Gen, Mace Windu lives AU, Post-Order 66, Survival, Warnings refer to Order 66 badness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 14:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14215221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: Mace Windu survives the Jedi Purge. ABANDONED AND DISCONTINUED WORK.





	life begins when you accept your fate

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Shattered Faith" by Bad Religion. 
> 
> This story is adoptable if anyone is interested in continuing it, just let me know. I ran out of ideas on where to take it, but thought it was a fairly cohesive short worth sharing.

He woke in what could best be described as a refuse heap, the Force screaming in his skull. Mace felt rather like screaming himself. His forearm burned in agony where his hand had been taken, and distantly he could feel the crystals of his ‘blade aching, searching for him, and the gaping wound in the Force that was Sidious. No. Two. There were two Dark presences, and one of them - Mace’s heart lurched. It was what they had all feared. Skywalker had Fallen. 

In desperate need of guidance, Mace reached for the Force. His age old ally was slow to answer though, muddled and chaotic. Even as he wondered what had happened, he felt the death of one of the few remaining lights left in the Force. The Jedi were dying. No. The Jedi were being slaughtered. A fierce sadness welled up in Mace, and he shunted it into the Force. He didn’t have time for sadness. He needed to get to the Temple, see if there was anything that could be salvaged, anyone that could be saved. 

Mace lost track of time as he traversed the distance from Senate district to Temple district. The lower levels were dim and dirty, and more than once he had to fight for his life with Force and fists and feet. The bombardment of death throes in the Force slowed after a while, then ceased altogether. What had happened? Mace wondered. The Sith, but how? How had Palpatine killed so many Jedi and so quickly? 

When he finally approached the Temple, Mace knew part of what he felt. A yawning pit opened in his chest as he registered the smoke that still hung heavy over the Temple, the pockmarks of blasterfire on duracrete, the stench of burning corpses. They had - the thought could barely form in Mace’s mind. He staggered and went to his knees, sobbing quietly but brokenly as the truth crashed over him. The Jedi were gone. His people - he was the last of his people. The Force hitched slightly at that. 

Was he not? Mace wondered with terrified hope. Was he not the last of the Jedi? Distant lights flared in the Force. No. No, he was not the last. The relief that washed through Mace set him sobbing again, huddled in on his wasted body. Slowly he made his way into the Temple regardless. Their Order might be extirpated, but he would not allow their once home to be desecrated further than it already had been. 

It took weeks to gather all the bodies. Mace searched the entire Temple room by room, level by level, even the deep sublevels that almost no one ever ventured down to. He sealed rooms as he cleared them, and in a few, he found elders or Padawans clinging to the last shreds of life. These he brought to the Halls of Healing, and in the Halls of Healing he slept when he was able and meditated when sleep only brought nightmares. Some lived, others - others died, and he carried them to the crematorium and gave them over to the Force. 

The Force, as time passed, grew Darker, more oppressive. Someone, Mace could tell, was hunting. He reviewed security logs, reset access codes, and made sure that the most dangerous information in the archives was utterly inaccessible. The few recovering Jedi he had found helped where they were able, and it was one of them that showed Mace the most recent codes to be used other than his own. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had survived the initial purge, had modified the emergency message to warn other survivors away. And Obi-Wan had seen the security holos of Skywalker betraying everything he had once aspired to become. 

Mace’s heart ached at that. While he’d long respected the younger Master, that respect had grown into genuine regard as they served together on the High Council. Obi-Wan was a trusted friend, and the knowledge of this betrayal - it might be enough to finally break even that man. The Force shifted in warning. Obi-Wan would not Fall, the Force whispered, but losing him to despair would be as disastrous.

It took nearly a year of quiet terror for them to clear the Temple. When they left, Mace carried with him a satchel full of holocrons and a double handful of kyber crystals. They slipped out under cover of night, letting the Force lead them. From what they’d found on the holonet, Darth Vader and his acolytes were still hunting Jedi in the far reaches of the galaxy. It seemed that Almas Academy still stood, and the Altisians had left Bespin to undertake a fully nomadic existence aboard the _Chu’unthor_. Every night when he meditated, Mace prayed the Force kept them safe. 

The ship they found - well, a clunker would be putting quite the gloss on its description. It was a barely functional wreck. But they loaded up anyway, the Force quietly urging their departure. Coruscant was no longer safe for Jedi. The captain ferried them to Almas, and even as they disembarked, Master Qel-Bertuk was there, offering the Academy’s hospitality. They all knew though, it would only be a matter of time before the Emperor came. 

There was a resistance, Master Qel-Bertuk told them quietly. If they wished to fight? Mace wanted to sign up immediately. But he also knew he was far from fit. He was emaciated and out of practice, his soul ravaged by the destruction of the Order that he had held so dear. He would do no one any good in a fight, not until he regained his health and the ability to fight without Falling himself.


End file.
